


lonely

by whatcaniwriteinthis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Captain Ennoshita Chikara, Character Study, Ennoshita Chikara Centric, Ennoshita Chikara is Important, Gen, Importance of Friendship, Kinda, Loneliness, Team Dynamics, and maybe im projecting but who doesn't want a gr8 team like karasuno, friendships, listen man i love ennoshita so goddamn much, not actually but that's what it's mainly about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:16:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcaniwriteinthis/pseuds/whatcaniwriteinthis
Summary: chikara is so lonely. he thought that horrible ache in his chest that ate at him from the inside would finally disappear.





	lonely

**Author's Note:**

> fun little rambling about ennoshita because i love him so goddamn much omfg not beta-ed any mistakes are my own etc etc
> 
> edit: now that this is old i feel comfortable saying the truth: as much as this is a study of ennoshita, it's also a study of myself and the impact friendship has had on my life/general outlook. the emotions described in this fic are almost entirely mine, including the part about in stories becoming armour, excluding the part about love for volleyball though i hope i wrote that well. 
> 
> anyways. i worked on this for at least a year before i posted it and i'm really proud of how articulated loneliness vs being alone and also how you can be lonely while still having friends. 
> 
> okay thanks and enjoy.

chikara thought that, by joining a club with as enthusiastic members as the karasuno boys’ volleyball club has, he would feel less lonely. he thought that horrible ache in his chest that ate at him from the inside would finally disappear. disappear and be replaced by whatever it is normal people feel. he can’t remember what normal people feel.

and in the moment, it does disappear. in the heat of the moment: as his thighs tremble with the effort of simply staying upright and his forearms smart from receiving and his palms sting from spiking and his heart beats a ragged tempo against his throat as he surveys his team- this ragtag group of teenagers of varying levels of academic competency, united by a love of something intangible that will never love them back- and in that breath, that infinitesimally small period of time, chikara is not lonely.

but then practice ends.

study sessions end.

games end.

they bow to their supporters. they shake hands with their opponents. they go home.

hinata cycles up and then back down the mountain- and there’s something poetic in that: every day, he surmounts a mountain. tsukishima and yamaguchi head off together, sweet in their old, quiet fondness. tanaka to his sister, narita to his _insane_ family of seven, noya to his quiet one of two and chikara- alone- to a silent home.

his mother his home less often than not- the only constant provided is her absence. he used to get upset- used to rage and scream and throw fits. now he’s just tired. his mother will not- cannot- fix the ache in his chest.

his father signs _hello_. he makes dinner in a soft orchestra: the hiss of frying food and the whistles of the pressure cooker, a pen across paper, soft footsteps further muffled by cushioned slippers. chikara’s father is deaf and chikara, as a result, is practically mute.

not only at home.

he used to hate the silence. it felt ominous and foreboding, like one day it will be broken by something more destructive than a fallen book. he used to hate that in order to have a proper conversation he needs both hands free. but now he’s grown out of his teenage angst. now he enjoys the silence. now he recognizes it as companionable. he enjoys the focus with which he and his father hold conversations. even after having known sign language for so long, there still is no room for a wandering mind.

but even then, that horrible ache is still there. it still gnaws at the inside of chikara’s chest. he feels so fucking _lonely_ , all the goddamn time.

everyone seems to have someone- pairs of people in the hall, crowds of people in the classroom, lounging across desks and chairs. They move like schools of fish- protected from predators, who move like packs of wolves, prowling, waiting for someone to wander too far from the herd.

chikara has no one. he has his camera, his notebook, his stories, sure. he uses these as protective barriers, but it doesn’t feel right. he doesn’t want his stories to protect him. he wants to share them- to enjoy them- for people enjoy them. he wants them to fly off on wings he fashions for them, to dance on the breeze and bring smiles to the faces of those who see them. but it’s hard to make anything pretty from armour.

but then…

“you should do it chika.” noya says, face fierce and honest and open in a way chikara can only hope to be.

chikara is taken aback. he feels like he’s been slapped in the face. but the ache, that horrible constriction around his chest, it disappears. it isn’t replaced by some warm glow, like in cheesy romance novels. It just, leaves. And now there’s a part of his body that has finally been reanimated; like when your foot falls asleep and you finally stamp it awake.

of course, chikara does not realize this until much later. all he can do is stare at noya, and make a flustered excuse.

tanaka nods, a rare expression of genuine seriousness crossing his face. “you should do it, ennoshita-san.” there’s respect in his tone, the sort of respect chikara had never expected to be directed at him. he gapes at him, and then looks over at narita for some support.

kinoshita answers his unspoken question, but narita nods in full agreement. “you’ll do well.”

“you want me”- chikara gestures to himself, all one hundred and seventy-six centimetres of his skinny average self- “to be your captain?”

they nod, like it was never even a question.

chikara’s shoulders move from high and tense to low but wary. “I don’t know if I can.” he admits, a little embarrassed, mostly honest. he likes the idea of leading- he’d gotten a taste of it when he directs- but there’s a difference between a director and a _captain_.

for one thing, no one expects the director to be anything more than a good idea. everyone expects the captain to be a good player- if not the best.

“you can.” noya tells him, mouth full of popsicle, and it’s that easy.

his friends believe in him and, suddenly, he’s the captain-to-be and daichi-san pulls him along for important discussion making processes and asks for his opinion and gives him tips and couch ukai’s pointing out things that he should remember and-

and he sinks into bed, dead tired, and the ache isn’t there.

he watches his team- his _friends_ \- split off into their own way- not only at the end of the day, but also the end of the year- and the ache isn’t there.

he drops his chopsticks to excitedly tell his father about practice, and the ache isn’t there.

his stories born inside him in the fire of his soul are no longer forged into armor. he doesn’t need it anymore. he can twist them into artful birds, and watch them fly high- higher than he can jump, though that doesn’t mean he can’t try.

it hasn’t been replaced by some constant warm glow, but he can finally breathe free for the first time in too many years. there is no horrible cavern of emptiness. instead his chest tightens as he heaves breaths.

sometimes it swells with pride and sometimes it nearly bursts from joy and sometimes it tightens with fear and nerves and sometimes it caves under indescribable sadness and sometimes it roars with something that defies a name- but it never aches with that horrible crushing loneliness.

chikara has a team now- this wonderful, loud, ragtag band of teenagers united by a love for something intangible that loves them back in a wild and vivid way- and though there will be times when his alone, he will never truly be lonely.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! tell me what you thing/check out my [tumblr](http://probablypartiallyinsane.tumblr.com/) and all that jazz


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